It's not easy
by francis2
Summary: Crossover. Mick is in Chicago on Halloween to find someone. When he finds him, they become friends. But while they explore the city, they face some problems.
1. It's not easy being green

Disclaimer: Moonlight isn't mine, and The Hulk isn't either. I just play with the characters. No harm intended.

Mick St. John knew that he should probably have called for backup. But for starters, he was here on his own terms, so why should he bring someone else into this. And then he still wasn't sure what to do once he found his prey, and how he would react. So he decided to run a low profile and try to talk it out before eventually making a move.

The old bottle green chevy he had rented was parked around the corner, a cooler with his secret food source stashed in the trunk. He shoved the gun deeper into his pocket and crossed the dark street. Cold drizzly rain on a Halloween night – could it get any more stereotype?

Shaking his duster to rid it from stray raindrops Mick opened the door to the dingy pub in a small street in Chicago. It was almost uncanny how cliché this place was. The bar consisted of battered, beer stained dark wood, the bar stools were old, and the patrons looked like they spent every night here. There was the obligatory juke box, the neon signs, the pool table, the bald bartender. Some sort of Country was playing, but almost drowned in the cacophony of voices and the clicking of glasses. A dishwasher was running in the adjoining kitchen. Stale smoke twirled its way towards the ceiling.

Every booth was occupied by groups of mostly bulky caucasian males, talking loud to each other in an accent that was decidedly different from the LA drawl he was used to. Every booth, except for one. The one he would sit in.

Mick ordered a whisky, paid for it and went over to the smallish man who sat alone in the farthest corner, near the window. He wore jeans and a brown corduroy jacket, zipped up to the chin. A baseball cap hiding his face, he sat huddled as if to avoid any human contact. There was not an ounce of dangerousness in the air, and still, he had managed to be left alone.

„May I sit here?" Mick asked and did just that, without waiting for an answer, trying to act untouched by the obvious repulse of the other's quick glance. Then he was ignored again.

He drank his whisky, slowly, scenting the air while he watched his counterpart from the corner of his eyes.

The man bumped his left leg on the floor, obviously oblivious to this habit, and gripped his almost empty beer glass hard enough to break it.

„Can I buy you another?" Mick tried to break the silence, to get the other to react.

„I don't think I should. Don't want to lose control, you know."

„So you tend to drink too much?"

„Just have kind of an anger management problem. Best leave it at that. You are not from here."

„No. You aren't local, either."

„Still haven't taken on the local accent. What do you want?"

„Why do you think I want something from you. Just want someone to talk to on a lonely night."

„You are not someone I would expect to find in a bar like this."

Mick gave a short laugh. „Look who's talking."

His opponent looked up. His eyes were dark blue and watched him closely with a haunted expression, like he didn't have much sleep lately. His face was lean and edgy, with dark stubble. A hand grabbed Mick's. Instinctively Mick pulled back.

„You don't like to be touched, huh? Understandable, as your skin is cold as ice. Something wrong with you?"

Mick was startled, suddenly on red alert. He decided to play his cards. „Are you Bruce?" he asked. „Cause then I'm searching for you."

The man shrugged, but Mick could see the tension in his shoulders. „I am Bruce. And I have a knack for identifying strange people. You are definitely strange. What do you want?"

This man had attacking and defending down to an art form.

„I wanted to talk to you. Because we could have something in common."

„You have an anger management problem, too?" The man suddenly flashed his eyes at him, and they were bright neon green. Mick vamped out and hissed, his icy blue eyes staring his opponent down. He grabbed the other by the collar. Then both remembered where they were, and backed off.

„What are you?" both whispered almost inaudibly towards each other.

„Let's go outside for a talk." Bruce recommended.

They walked the cracked asphalt for a while, none of them talking.

Mick decided to take the plunge and open up first. „I'm a vampire. And you?"

„They call me the Hulk."

„You are searching for a cure, aren't you?"

„Yes. You know, it would be cool to be invincible once in a while, if I could control it. And if I didn't need to keep it secret. The army hunts me. The love of my life fears me, and I don't want to ever hurt her. How can a man live with that?"

„I can relate. That's why I want a cure, too."

„Is there a cure for vampirism?"

„There is. Mind you, only a few vamps know about it and it needs to stay that way. And, you know, as you're a scientist and a doctor I hoped you could help me and I could help you."

„How?"

„You are said to be an expert in all kind of odd blood deseases. Your condition is quite similar to mine, you know, anger is one of the four things that make me vamp out. So I guess you could have a handle on the cure."

„I tried to cure myself, but as of now I didn't find anything because I cannot stay in one place for long enough to really get into it."

„That's why I approached you today. I found a stash of the vampire cure that my ex left in a safe deposit box in L.A., but it's such a small amount that it wouldn't be enough to stay human for long. I wanna recreate it and find a way to make it permanent, but I need you to do the research. That's why I used my savings to build a lab."

„What's in it for me?"

„In return I would protect you from discovery. I have friends in high places. And you would have the possibility to use the lab for your own intentions. Find a cure for your condition, too."

Bruce nodded slowly, deliberating the offer. Then he shook hands with Mick and grinned tentatively.

„Sounds promising. Let's go back and have another drink."

They sat down in the same booth they left earlier and nursed another glass of liquor. Everything was said for the moment, and both kept silent.

Reminiscing about the troubles their life brought them, they felt a sudden connection. Each muttered into their respective drinks.  
„Being a vampire sucks."

„It's not easy being green."

They both looked up.

„Maybe we should go through town without hiding."

„I would need to get really angry for that to happen."

Both cracked a smile and then laughed out long and hard.

Life was good, especially on Halloween.


	2. You won't like me when I'm angry

Chicago had a certain air. The windy city, the city of crime, but even crime was run down since the 30s when Prohibition and Al Capone made it famous. There was the odd charme of harbour warehouses, old buildings, narrow streets. You could easily imagine being in the 20s or 30s, listening to early jazz or swing.

Since Mick was new to Chicago – in fact he hadn't left the L.A. area much at all since the war – Bruce decided to give him the tour. They would work together after all, so they needed to get to know each other better, and what better way than walking around and talking about life.

Mick was quite impressed with the differences and the similarities to his hometown. There was a lot of light, high towering buildings, most of them older than in L.A.. The city stretched more on plain ground, not on the hills like in his town. He liked downtown, and there was still a bit of life even though it was past midnight.

They left the lights and sights and headed for the harbour front. The buildings here were not as flash, the run-down warehouses made for a more grungy atmosphere. Mick suddenly stopped walking and hushed his companion with a gesture. He closed his eyes and took a long sniff, moving his head from left to right. Bruce stood by, alerted that something wasn't right, but not able to sense what this was about. With a whoosh of air Mick was gone. Bruce hardly got a chance to look around when he heard the vampire's voice softly from the left: „You coming?"

He ran up to the small alley that Mick had vanished into. It was dark and he could hardly see the outlines of garbage cans and house steps in the fog. It seemed that his friend had no problems in that regard. Bruce heard a shuffle in the distance and hurried up. What he saw made him gasp.

A few youngsters, late teens, clad in leather, were circling a little boy, not older than maybe ten, and taunting him with words and knifes. The kid had a bag of sweets that he held protectively in front of himself, and he was besides himself with fear, close to nervous breakdown. His clothes and haircut showed that he was from the better part of town.

Mick was standing to the side, knowing well that if he intervened, anyone of them could put that knife to work on the boy.

Hesitant Mick took action. „Hey, what are you doing?"

„The little snot here lost his group and stumbled upon something we didn't want him to see. So we are just taking a little fun. Trick or treat?"

Mick had already smelled what they didn't want the boy to see: a corpse was lying a few yards away besides a dumpster. They would kill the little witness, there was no way around it.

Mick gestured for Bruce to come nearer. He didn't want to risk the man to get angry, but he needed their mind to be distracted by having two targets – three with the kid. Maybe they would split up, which would make it easier to get the boy to safety.

There were five of them, not one bigger than Mick, but he didn't want to expose himself and his friend, so he had to be mindful of the knives.

He decided to taunt them. „Hey, you know, the boy hasn't seen more than I have. Why don't you take it out on me?"

They shuffled, watching their leader for clues what to do. They discussed in hushed words if he was bluffing or not. Of course he could hear them.

„I'm not bluffing. There's a dead body at the dumpster over there. I could call the police, now."

What he wanted, happened, but it happened quicker than he had thought. Two of them attacked him, two lunged for Bruce, and one had the little boy in a grip and threatened him with the knife at his throat.

Mick hit the first one in the stomach, kicked the second one in the knee and used a karate move to his neck to knock him out. In an instant he was behind the leader and knocked the knife out of his grasp, freeing the boy. He lifted the guy and threw him into a wall.

Bruce was circled by the other two. Because he had been staying out of it, they didn't know if they should hurt him. Bruce' eyes were shining in an unnatural lime green. Mick was alarmed. He grabbed one of the attackers from behind. The youngster turned around and stabbed Mick with the knife.

Mick roared and vamped out. He kicked the rowdy away and grabbed the knife to take it out. But by now Bruce had had enough. Seeing his friend attacked, assuming he was hurt badly, he sunk to his knees, growling and moaning. His clothes ripped open, buttons flying. His skin became a sickly green palor, and he was growing at an alarmingly fast rate until he towered over the others by a few feet. The stupefied youngsters watched him, rooted to their place by shock. Even the boy stopped crying and sat on the road with open mouth.

Then the Hulk roared and threw one of the teens into a dumpster. Mick took his cue, grabbed the boy and ran for his life. He didn't know yet how much control the creature had, and if it discerned friend from foe when in full adrenaline mode.

Mick turned a corner and stopped. Setting the boy down, he took a glance back. The youngsters were either unconscious or incapacitated enough not to follow them or run away, but the Hulk was gone.

Mick faced a hard choice. Going after his friend and leaving the boy alone, or…

He placed the boy at a staircase and zipped him up. „You sit tight, buddy, all right? I'll send help."

Walking back to the war field and beyond Mick placed a call to the police telling them where to find a lost boy to bring him home, and a couple of thugs, and a corpse. They would never believe the stories the kid would tell about a big green monster and a vampire coming to his rescue. Could have been a killer cat and a green slimy something. It was Halloween after all.

He ran into the direction the Hulk had taken, changing to vamp speed as soon as he was out of sight. Not that it mattered now anymore. He used the creature's scent to find him, the strange mixture of too much adrenaline and a chemical smell that wasn't there when Bruce was himself. The trail wasn't that hard to follow, as there were shattered picket fences and garbage cans littering the way.

The trail ended in a park. The Hulk was still angry, ripping bushes out left and right. Mick speeded up and put himself in the way of the creature. The green monster didn't stop, but shoved Mick to the side. The vampire was smashed into a tree, but recovered quickly and again faced the Hulk. Mick vamped, showed his fangs and roared. The creature hesitated, recognizing a kindred spirit, another strong predator.

Mick's eyes turned brown. „Come on, Bruce. There's no need for that anymore. Calm down. The boy is safe. You can't kill me anyway. I'm no threat to you. I'm your friend."

Mick tried to calm the Hulk down with short sentences, talking like he would to a spooked horse or a scared dog. The Hulk listened intently, laying his head to one side. Suddenly he turned away and ran off. But there was no more aggression in his body language, only fear and shame.

In a thicket of bushes Mick found the small man, clad only in tattered pants, exhausted beyond recognition. When Mick approached, Bruce retreated back into the dark, until he recognized him a moment later.

„Hey, buddy," Mick greeted. „You ready to go home?"

„Sorry, Mick. I lost control again." Bruce sounded ashamed.

„Don't fret. It happens. You didn't hurt anyone innocent, but you scared the thugs and saved the boy. They won't tell this story the way it happened, I guess."

„I hurt you."

„I heal fast, don't worry. See?" He showed him where the knife had penetrated his shirt, the skin was healed. The bruises from when the Hulk hit him weren't visible anymore.

Bruce nodded. He shivered in the late night air. Mick offered him his duster. Bruce gave him a questioning look. Mick grinned. „I'm never cold, buddy. I sleep in a freezer."

„Really?"

„Besides, why do you rip your shirt, but not your pants?"

„Dunno. I tend to buy the stretchy kind. And it seems that I'm not growing nearly as much in that area as everywhere else." He gave him a mischievous grin. „Bummer, that."

Mick laughed. „You mean, like a bodybuilder on steroids?"

Bruce gave him a playful shove. „Don't make me angry. But – thanks for bringing me back. I need someone like you to take care of me."

„Seems that I need someone like you, too. We could take turns in being the hero."

„All right. Let's ride into the sunset together. Or sunrise, as it is."

On their way back to the car the men were both deep in thought. Both had tried to deal with life alone, but failed. Now, they had the chance of having a brother of kind. It was a nice feeling. Halloween was a family tradition, after all.


	3. Closed Spaces

This is a crossover with The Hulk again. Seems to be my Halloween tradition to write about these two.

I was inspired by flying in a small plane, but nothing even remotely like this happened. Moonlight and the Hulk don't belong to me.

[b]Closed Spaces[/b]

The loudspeakers crackled. If Mick hadn't had super hearing he would hardly have understood the message that the flight from Chicago to L.A. would check in at counter number 13 instead of number 7. It was a slow morning at the airport, only few people were travelling before sunrise on All Saints Day after a long night of Trick and Treating. The hall was cold and filled with overflowing garbage cans and ridiculous plastic bands to keep people in line.

His buddy Bruce was sitting in the metal chair next to him, bundled up in a down jacket and fast asleep despite the cramped position. The man was utterly exhausted after he turned into a big green thing around midnight. Mick was tempted to put a bag behind his friend's head to keep it from falling, but reminded himself that he wasn't Bruce's mother.

But Bruce wasn't his freshie, either, so Mick forced himself to stop staring at the veins in the smaller man's neck. He just hadn't bought enough blood from his source in Chicago to last the two-days trip; he could have done with more sustenance after his encounter with a knife, a few thugs, and an angry Hulk. There was no chance to take fluids onto the plane, and the tomato juice from the machine wouldn't quite cut it. Well, it was too late now to get something. Their flight would leave in an hour.

There was still a little time, and if Mick hadn't been so fidgety from hunger he would have let Bruce sleep a bit longer. But he needed to get moving and nudged the checkered shirt next to him. Bruce gave a little snort and shook awake.

"Let's get through the check-in, buddy," Mick stated. "I'm always fidgety until I'm safely at the boarding gate."

"Why that?"

"Cause my ID is fake. I can't use the driving license of my late grandfather, can I?"

"Oh!" Bruce smiled. "I don't even have a driving license and can't use my real name until the military stops searching for me."

"Are they still on you?" Mick was worried. He didn't need someone accidentally finding out that vampires weren't a myth while hunting another myth.

"The last time they bothered me was in Boston four weeks ago. I got a new identity there. Up to now they didn't find me. Maybe I'll be lucky and the trail will get cold."

They stopped talking when a soldier in uniform walked by closely. They exchanged a conspiratory look and took their bags to the check-in.

The female attendant looked at Mick appraisingly and asked for their boarding pass and ID. Mick had booked the flight from the hotel. She checked everything and weighed their bags.

"Only hand luggage? Are you aware that you aren't supposed to carry fluids, weapons and explosives?"

"Of course," Mick smiled. He had left his gun at home.

She gave them a badge for their hand luggage and wished them a pleasant flight. They went through the metal detector and with Mick it beeped. He shrugged with a wry smile and pointed at his belt buckle. As it was so early in the morning they let it go and didn't ask him to take off the belt. Bruce got through without problems.

After rounding a corner he sighed. "Was there a problem?" Bruce asked.

"I have a bullet in my shoulder blade that I didn't get out yet. If they hadn't bought the belt buckle I would have needed some other excuse. Josef said I should get some fake medical record of a hip replacement, and I guess he's right. As always."

"How did you get through when you came here?"

"Same trick," Mick stated.

Bruce took his wallet out when they got to an open bakery stand. "I need a coffee. You want something?"

"I can't. Nothing but alcohol, and, you know…"

"Not even coffee? That's cruel."

Mick knitted his eyebrows. "It is. I love the scent, though."

Bruce came back with coffee and a bagel. Mick's fangs ached. He was glad when the boarding gate opened and they were led into the waiting plane.

Their seats were near the rear door. When they were settled Mick closed his eyes and tried to wish the time away. Almost two hours to Phoenix. They had a long connection time there, maybe he could find a source.

After the seat belt sign turned off the flight attendants went through with coffee and early breakfast suggestions. He declined and asked for scotch. He needed something to distract him from the thirst, even if it wouldn't help. The attendant came back with a small cup, smiling.

They were told to fasten the seat belts again as they were hitting some turbulences. A woman sitting a few rows further down stood up regardless and bolted for the bathroom. Before the flight attendant could chide her, the plane rolled slightly and she lost her balance. She cursed and went back to her seat, buckling in with angry movements.

Mick groaned and closed his silvered eyes quickly. Bruce watched him closely.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, but I'm hungry and the woman skinned her shin. It's driving me crazy," He slurred through his fangs.

"Anything I can do to help?"

Mick shook his head and tried to pretend to sleep. He felt his nerves get the better of him. He always felt insecure in closed spaces with lots of humans, unsure if his control might slip. When he was hungry, it was torture. The scents of all the people, relentlessly recycled through the ventilation, tortured him. The hundred heartbeats around him taunted him. The neck of every attendant when they moved towards a passenger tantalized him.

When the seat belt signs went out again, Bruce nudged him and whispered: "Stand up. Let's go to the bathroom."

"What… Have you lost your mind?" Mick hissed through clenched teeth.

"I guess it's not worse than donating to the Red Cross. I'm a doctor, you know."

Bruce shoved him towards the bathroom behind them. No-one looked at them, most of the passengers were sleeping by now. They entered the small cubicle and Bruce locked the door.

"Okay, how do we do this?"

Mick wanted to protest again but caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror. He was deadly pale and the veins around his eyes were shining through already. His fangs wouldn't fully retract any more. He needed this.

He sat down on the toilet seat and pulled Bruce into his lap. "Sorry about this, but I don't want you standing up in case you faint."

Bruce snorted. "I won't."

Mick could feel Bruce's nerves despite his attempt to be cool. The man's pulse was racing, he swayed back and forth and his hands were clammy. Mick would need to keep him steady and prevent him from moving. "Keep very still," he growled. "Or I might seriously hurt you. I don't need to tell you that there's not much space between the Jugular - and the Carotid."

His words had the desired effect, Bruce was shocked into submission and stopped fidgeting.

Mick held Bruce, embracing him from behind, used his other hand to softly bend the head to the side, and sniffed. With a snakelike move he sank his fangs into his friend's neck and closed his lips around the wound. He let the blood flow on its own pace, almost moaning with delight at the warmth and saltiness of the healing fluid. He could already feel his bruises heal fully, and his thirst gradually receded. Suddenly Bruce went utterly still and moaned deeply. Instinctively, Mick had used a little bit of allure to keep him from panicking. Well, at least he got something out of this, too.

Mick forced himself to stop before he was fully sated. Bruce would need to stay lucid and strong. He licked the wound so it would close and laid his head back on the wall, sighing deeply.

Bruce moved away. Mick shrunk back. "I'm sorry, buddy."

Bruce nodded. "It's okay, really. I didn't expect it to be so – intimate, I guess." He blushed.

"You know what people will think when we get out there," Mick teased.

Bruce grinned. "Oh, I don't care, I have been called worse. I just worry about your reputation."

"Mine?"

"Yeah. I guess the stewardess will stop making eyes on you now."

"She didn't."

"Oh, trust me, she did." Bruce turned around to the faucet and washed his face.

Mick checked his face for blood spots and then opened the hatch. "Let's get out of here."

They walked to their seat as if nothing happened. When the flight attendants walked around to check if everyone was belted in again, one of them giggled.

"See?" Bruce asked. "Your reputation is shot."

"Hm. Do you think we entered the mile high club now?"

Bruce lifted his eyebrows. "Is there something like that for – donations?"

"Well, we exchanged some kind of fluid, didn't we?"

When they walked through the hall of LAX Bruce suddenly nudged Mick with alarm in his eyes and pointed to a glass wall. In the reflection Mick could clearly see his eyes glowing – in neon green.

"Oh no," Mick moaned. What kind of side effect did he get himself into?

Josef would have an aneurism.


	4. The Prince and the Frog

I didn't get to write another Halloween story this year, following up on my Hulk-crossover-story "It's not Easy", "You Won't Like Me" and "Closed Space". So now I've written the next part for Holiday time.

The Prince and the Frog

It had been six weeks since Bruce Banner had come to L.A. with Mick. Josef had been surprisingly understanding and cool with Mick's idea to get Banner to help him find a permanent cure, but he didn't want to have any part in it except for maybe helping out with funds. So Mick had turned the apartment underneath his own into a lab and living space for Bruce. The whole building was Mick's and he had kept the story under his loft empty for safety purposes.

Bruce and Beth had become friends easily. Whenever he needed a little distraction from his work in the late afternoon he knocked on their door and had a drink with Beth. Sometimes a still sleepy vampire would join them, take his breakfast and cuddle up with Beth. Bruce had been a loner for a long time but he enjoyed the company and the opportunity to talk about everything and nothing. He understood very well that Mick felt the need to stake his claim on Beth but he would never make a move on her. He just wished his own lover would be as understanding of his condition as Beth was of Mick's.

It was almost Christmas and Beth had already decorated the loft with holly and a tree. The three were sitting at the fireplace, drinking mulled wine (for Mick it was spiked with blood instead of spices) and talking about music. Suddenly Mick froze, took a long sniff and jumped up. He took a defensive stance in front of Beth and watched the stairway intently.

A male figure in a suit came down the stairs, impeccably polished shoes first, then black slacks, and a white pressed shirt with a shiny black jacket was next. The figure started talking before it was fully visible.

"What a cozy sight you make. You extended your family, Mick. I'm a bit concerned that I wasn't invited, we're family too, after all."

Lance reached the floor and regaled them all with an arrogant sneer, holding onto the bannister with one hand, a walking stick in the other.

Mick scowled. "You're not invited, I don't regard you as family, so you better go. Now!"

Lance didn't react to his outburst but let his gaze swift over the loft and its inhabitants as if he was judging a display in the shopping window of a furniture store.

"Fresh blood, huh? Did you finally get yourself a freshie? I didn't think you had it in you. And a male, too. Or are you training your blonde mate to accept living blood even before you turn her?"

Mick didn't rise to the taunt. "What do you want, Lance? What is important enough to make you leave Europe? Coraline isn't here, you know better where she is than I do. So, what's up?"

Lance strode towards the three. "I heard of your new project. Coraline finally told me that she was hiding a small portion of the compound in a bank safe. I went to get it, but the safe was empty. You purchased a lot of laboratory material. Are you funding the science classrooms of your local high school?"

"What if I do?"

Lance laughed. "Of course. Now, everybody needs a hobby, but I want the compound back. It might safe us all in case there is another vampire apocalypse."

Mick smiled. "You're actually afraid of those pesky humans that you despise so much. What happened to top-of-the-food-chain and royalty-of-european-vampires?"

"They are many, they are organized and they have weapons. It's getting harder to stay hidden, you know that. The cure is ours, you stole it from us."

"Well, you said yourself that I'm part of your family, and Coraline gave it to me, so I didn't technically steal it. Besides, I doubt that the amount that is left in my possession would be enough to save two vampires, let alone a whole family."

"That's ours to decide. There might be a way to produce more, but without the sample we can't do that. You are only wasting a precious amount of it without any chance to find what you're searching for. You haven't studied life science since high school in the 1920s, I presume."

Mick took a quick glance towards Bruce. He had been standing behind the couch, listening to the discussion without a word. Mick doubted he should tell Lance about his plans, but what if Lance or Coraline or Cynthia had made some progress that would help Bruce to get to the heart of the matter quickly? What if he was wasting time and compound on tests that had already been done? Maybe if they worked together…

Beth watched the display from hooded eyes. She knew that entering the discussion would only piss off Lance even more. He was old fashioned and despised women as much as any other man who got stuck in the last century – or centuries. An idea was forming in her brain. What if they got Lance to help them out? There were certain botanical products that Cynthia had been storing in her lab before Lance raided them out. Maybe they would need them to produce more of the cure, which was the first step to making it permanent. How could she get them to cooperate?...

Bruce tried very hard to think of something to say without giving the foreign vampire – he was sure it was a vampire just from the way he was holding himself – too much information. From what he got out of the discussion this Lance was somehow related to Mick and his family had been in possession of the cure until it was stolen and somehow came to L.A. The foreigner feared that they would waste it and not get anywhere. Bruce's fear was that the vampire would try to steal their little vial and they would have no basis to create more of it. If only he could sneak out to his lab and hide it. Or what if they could convince Lance to help them instead of shutting them down? …

Lance watched the display with an amused expression. He knew what they were thinking: how they could get rid of him and where to hide the compound so he couldn't find it. He had to act quickly. They were probably in the middle of their tests and if he could get into the lab he could snag the box or vial or whatever, and disappear before they could follow. Mick was the only vampire here and he was so much younger than Lance. He would wipe the floor with him, again. He was looking forward to it. Nothing could keep him from the lab, not the lanky smallish guy in green flannel nor the nosy blonde freshie nor Mick with his noble intentions. Lance took a small pistol from his side pocket.

"Don't come any nearer, this is loaded with silver. Just give me the compound and I'll be gone. If you don't give it to me freely, I will take it on my own."

Mick made a quick decision. Instead of attacking Lance he took a quick side step and vamp-jumped to the door. Blocking it with his body he called out to Beth and Bruce to take cover. Lance confronted Mick after a jump of his own, but instead of shooting him with silver he pushed a button on his walking stick, and a stake shot out of the end and pinned Mick to the wall.

Mick groaned in pain but his eyes glassed over and he was unable to move, paralized by the wood in his chest. Lance stepped up to push Mick's sagging body away from the door, but before he could complete this task a roar sounded in his back and he was flung across the room as if he was a fly.

When he came to and rolled his shoulders to get rid of the headache, what he saw made him gape in wonder. A bulky half-naked creature, as high as the ceiling, green and packed with muscles, stood before him and snarled at him. The monster held Mick's motionless body in his arms like a precious doll, laid him on the couch without taking his eyes off Lance and took a protective stance in front of him.

Beth crawled towards Mick and pulled the stake out without much effort. Mick sat up, rubbing his aching chest.

Lance still was too stunned to move. What kind of devilry was that? He had never seen anything like this in all his life. Mick had a watchdog, it seemed.

He stood up and ran towards the green abomination. Scratching his talons over its shoulders he tried to bite its neck, but it took him by his legs and threw him back into the wall. He hurt all over. Not even his speed and strength could match this brute.

Mick laughed, which made Lance even angrier. He tried again to get a hold of the monster, but to no avail. This time the green one just held him on arms length and every attempt to bite or scratch it was futile. The wounds he had inflicted before were already healing.

The Hulk looked at Mick with a childlike expression, like asking what to do now. Lance fumed. "Tell your were-toad to let me go!" he ordered.

Beth tried to keep herself from giggling, knowing it would only aggravate the situation, but she couldn't help it. "Did he just call Bruce a were-toad?" she asked laughing.

Mick laughed too. He went up to Lance, who was still hanging about 2 feet in the air, and took the pistol and the stick from him. Lance didn't put up a fight.

Mick laid a hand on Bruce's arm. "Let him go, brother. I'm sure he won't do any harm to us."

Lance was dumped by the creature, he fell backwards and was again humiliated when he sat down hard on his buttocks. So much for vampire grace.

"You know, Lance, I read the fairy tale differently. Wasn't it the princess who threw the frog into the wall? Well, now you know that it will never work to get the compound from us by sheer force. On the other hand, I have a proposal for you and your family."

"We won't work with you."

"I think you will. Listen. Bruce here is the best in his field, and he will find a way to produce more of the cure. But he would find it easier if he could build on the research that Coraline, Cynthia and their minions already did. Give us their research, and we'll share the cure with you when we find it."

"If you find it."

"We sure will. If we don't, then you haven't lost anything. You can copy the research if you want. You didn't find a way either, did you? If you don't help us, the small amount there is won't last long enough to help you through, in case the humans really turn against us."

Lance thought about this. As much as it pained him, Mick was right. There just wasn't enough left. They needed more, desperately. Scrambling together the meager leftovers wouldn't help them in the long haul.

"I will need to talk about this with our sire."

"Of course. Send my compliments to Coraline. I'm sure she hasn't forgotten about me yet."

Bruce was slowly coming back to his senses and his natural state, now that the danger was gone. Beth guided him to the couch where he sat down heavily. With a last curious glance at the small man, Lance opened a window and took a flying leap down the building.

Mick sighed. "Why can't he just take the elevator? Show-off!"

Beth laughed. It felt good after the tense situation they had just experienced. Mick fell in, and so did Bruce. "I'm happy to be your watchdog anytime", he said.

"More a watch-frog!" Mick retorted. Bruce went downstairs to find some clothes while Mick and Beth tidied up the loft. How would they explain the Lance-shaped cracks in the drywalls and the door to the janitor? It was fortunate that Mick owned the building.

A few days later they celebrated Christmas together. Beth offered Bruce a package and told him: "I got you a sign for your office downstairs."

When Bruce removed the wrapping he bellowed out a laugh. It was a metal sign with a very angry Kermit on it, the caption read "BEWARE OF THE FROG!".

"I will hang it on the inside, I think. Wouldn't want people to wonder."

For the first time in years, Bruce was happy on Christmas.

xxxxxxxxxxxx


End file.
